CHAPTER 7: MUST I AGONIZE?

PRAYER is measured, not by time, but by intensity. Earnest souls
who read of men like Praying Hyde are today anxiously asking, “Am I expected to
pray like that?”

They hear of others who sometimes remain on their knees before
God all day or all night, refusing food and scorning sleep, whilst they pray and
pray and pray. They naturally wonder, “Are we to do the same? Must all of us follow
their examples?” We must remember that those men of prayer did not pray by time.
They continued so long in prayer because they could not stop praying.

Some have ventured to think that in what has been said in earlier
chapters I have hinted that we must all follow in their train. Child of God, do
not let any such thought—such fear?—distress you. Just be willing to do what
He will have you do—what He leads you to do. Think about it; pray about it. We
are bidden by the Lord Jesus to pray to our loving Heavenly Father. We sometimes
sing, “Oh, how He loves!” And nothing can fathom that love.

Prayer is not given us as a burden to be borne, or an irksome
duty to fulfil, but to be a joy and power to which there is no limit. It is given
us that we “may find grace to help us in time of need” (Heb. iv. 16, R.V.). And
every time is a “time of need.” “Pray ye” is an invitation to be accepted rather
than a command to be obeyed. Is it a burden for a child to come to his father to
ask for some boon? How a father loves his child, and seeks its highest good! How
he shields that little one from any sorrow or pain or suffering! Our heavenly Father
loves us infinitely more than any earthly father. The Lord Jesus loves us infinitely
more than any earthly friend. God forgive me if any words of mine, on such a precious
theme as prayer, have wounded the hearts or consciences of those who are yearning
to know more about prayer. “Your heavenly Father knoweth,” said our Lord: and if
He knows, we can but trust and not be afraid.

A schoolmaster may blame a boy for neglected homework, or unpunctual
attendance, or frequent absence; but the loving father in the home knows all about
it. He knows all about the devoted service of the little laddie in the home circle,
where sickness or poverty throws so many loving tasks in his way. Our dear, loving
Father knows all about us. He sees. He knows how little leisure some of us have
for prolonged periods of prayer.

For some of us God makes leisure. He makes us lie down (Psa. xxiii.
2) that He may make us look up. Even then, weakness of body often prevents prolonged
prayer. Yet I question if any of us, however great and reasonable our excuses, spend
enough thought over our prayers. Some of us are bound to be much in prayer. Our
very work demands it. We may be looked upon as spiritual leaders; we may have the
spiritual welfare or training of others. God forbid that we should sin against the
Lord in ceasing to pray enough for them (I Sam. xii. 23). Yes, with some it is our
very business—almost our life’s work-to pray, Others—

Have friends who give them pain,

Yet have not sought a friend in Him.

For them they cannot help praying. If we have the burden of souls
upon us we shall never ask, “How long need I pray?”

But how well we know the difficulties which surround the prayer-life
of many! A little pile of letters lies before me as I write. They are full of excuses,
and kindly protests, and reasonings it is true. But is that why they are written?
No! No! Far from it. In every one of them there is an undercurrent of deep yearning
to know God’s will, and how to obey the call to prayer amid all the countless claims
of life.

Those letters tell of many who cannot get away from others for
times of secret prayer; of those who share even bedrooms; of busy mothers, and maids,
and mistresses who scarcely know how to get through the endless washing and cooking,
mending and cleaning, shopping and visiting; of tired workers who are too weary
to pray when the day’s work is done.

Child of God, our heavenly Father knows all about it. He is not
a taskmaster. He is our Father. If you have no time for prayer, or no chance of
secret prayer, why, just tell Him all about it—and you will discover that you
are praying!

To those who seem unable to get any solitude at all, or even the
opportunity of stealing into a quiet church for a few moments, may we point to the
wonderful prayer-life of St. Paul ? Did it ever occur to you that he was in prison
when he wrote most of those marvelous prayers of his which we possess? Picture him.
He was chained to a Roman soldier day and night, and was never alone for a moment.
Epaphias was there part of the time, and caught something of his master’s passion
for prayer. St. Luke may have been there. What prayer-meetings! No opportunity for
secret prayer. No! but how much we owe to the uplifting of those chained hands!
You and I may be never, or rarely ever, alone, but at least our hands are not fettered
with chains, and our hearts are not fettered, nor our lips.

Can we make time for prayer? I may be wrong, but my own belief
is that it is not God’s will for most of us—and perhaps not for any of us—to spend so much time in prayer as to injure our
physical health through getting
insufficient food or sleep. With very many it is a physical impossibility, because
of bodily weakness, to remain long in the spirit of intense prayer.

The posture in which we pray is immaterial. God will listen whether
we kneel, or stand, or sit, or walk, or work.

I am quite aware that many have testified to the fact that God
sometimes gives special strength to those who curtail their hours of rest in order
to pray more. At one time the writer tried getting up very early in the morning—and every morning—for prayer and communion
with God. After a time he found
that his daily work was suffering in intensity and effectiveness, and that it was
difficult to keep awake during the early evening hours! But do we pray as much as
we might do? It is a lasting regret to me that I allowed the days of youth and vigor
to pass by without laying more stress upon those early hours of prayer.

This, of course, cannot mean that we are to be always on our knees.
I am convinced that God does not wish us to neglect rightful work in order to pray.
But it is equally certain that we might work better and do more work if we gave
less time to work and more to prayer.

Let us work well. We are to be “not slothful in business” (Rom.
xii. 11). St. Paul says, “We exhort you, brethren, that ye abound more and more;
and that ye. . . do your own business, and to work with your hands. . . that ye
may walk honestly . . . and have need of nothing” (I Thess. iv. 11, 12). “If any
will not work, neither let him eat” (II Thess. iii. 10).

But are there not endless opportunities during every day of “lifting,
up holy hands”—or at least holy hearts—in prayer to our Father? Do we seize
the opportunity, as we open our eyes upon each new day, of praising and blessing
our Redeemer? Every day is an Easter day to the Christian. We can pray as we dress.
Without a reminder we shall often forget. Stick a piece of stamp-paper in the corner
of your looking-glass, bearing the words,—“Pray without ceasing.” Try it. We
can pray as we go from one duty to another. We can often pray at our work. The washing
and the writing, the mending and the minding, the cooking and the cleaning will
be done all the better for it.

Do not children, both young and old, work better and play better
when some loved one is watching? Will it not help us ever to remember that the Lord
Jesus is always with us, watching? Aye, and helping. The very consciousness of His
eye upon us will be the consciousness of His power within us.

Do you not think that St. Paul had in his mind this habitual praying
rather than fixed seasons of prayer when he said, “The Lord is at hand”—i.e.,
is near (Weymouth). “In nothing be anxious, but in everything, by prayer and supplication,
with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known unto God” (Phil. iv. 5, 6)? Does
not “in everything” suggest that, as thing after thing befalls us, moment by moment,
we should then and there make it a “thing” of prayer and praise to the Lord Who
is near? (Why should we limit this “nearness” to the Second Advent?)

What a blessed thought: prayer is to a near-God. When our Lord
sent His disciples forth to work, He said, “Lo, I am with you alway.”

Sir Thomas Browne, the celebrated physician, had caught this spirit.
He made a vow “to pray in all places where quietness inviteth; in any house, highway
or street; and to know no street in this city that may not witness that I have not
forgotten God and my Savior in it; and that no town or parish where I have been
may not say the like. To take occasion of praying upon the sight of any church which
I see as I ride about. To pray daily and particularly for my sick patients, and
for all sick people, under whose care soever. And at the entrance into the house
of the sick to say, ‘The peace and the mercy of God be upon this house.’ After a
sermon to make a prayer and desire a blessing, and to pray for the minister.”

But we question if this habitual communion with our blessed Lord
is possible unless we have times—whether long or brief—of definite prayer.
And what of these prayer seasons? We have said earlier that prayer is as simple
as a little child asking something of its father. Nor would such a remark need any
further comment were it not for the existence of the evil one.

There is no doubt whatever that the devil opposes our approach
to God in prayer, and does all he can to prevent the prayer of faith. His chief
way of hindering us is to try to fill our minds with the thought of our needs, so
that they shall not be occupied with thoughts of God, our loving Father, to Whom
we pray. He wants us to think more of the gift than of the Giver. The Holy Spirit
leads us to pray for a brother. We get as far as “O God, bless my brother”—and
away go our thoughts to the brother, and his affairs, and his difficulties, his
hopes and his fears, and away goes prayer!

How hard the devil makes it for us to concentrate our thoughts
upon God! This is why we urge people to get a realization of the glory of God, and
the power of God, and the presence of God, before offering up any petition. If there
were no devil there would be no difficulty in prayer, but it is the evil one’s chief
aim to make prayer impossible. That is why most of us find it hard to sympathize
with those who profess to condemn what they call “vain repetitions” and “much speaking”
in prayer—quoting our Lord’s words in His sermon on the mount.

A prominent London vicar said quite recently, “God does not wish
us to waste either His time or ours with long prayers. We must be business-like
in our dealings with God, and just tell Him plainly and briefly what we want, and
leave the matter there.” But does our friend think that prayer is merely making
God acquainted with our needs? If that is all there is in it, why, there is no need
of prayer! “For your Father knoweth what things ye have need of before ye ask him,”
said our Lord when urging the disciples to pray.

We are aware that Christ Himself condemned some “long prayers”
(Matt. xxiii. 14). But they were long prayers made “for a pretense,” “for a show”
(Luke xx. 47). Dear praying people, believe me, the Lord would equally condemn many
of the “long prayers” made every week in some of our prayer-meetings—prayers
which kill the prayer-meeting, and which finish up with a plea that God would hear
these “feeble breathings,” or “unworthy utterings.”

But he never condemns long prayers that are sincere. Let us not
forget that our Lord sometimes spent long nights in prayer. We are told of one of
these—we do not know how frequently they were (Luke vi. 12). He would sometimes
rise a “great while before day” and depart to a solitary place for prayer (Mark
i. 35). The perfect Man spent more time in prayer than we do. It would seem an undoubted
fact that with God’s saints in all ages nights of prayer with God have been followed
by days of power with men.

Nor did our Lord excuse Himself from prayer—as we, in our ignorance,
might think He could have done—because of the pressing calls to service and boundless
opportunities of usefulness. After one of His busiest days, at a time when His popularity
was at its highest, just when everyone sought His company and His counsel, He turned
His back upon them all and retired to a mountain to pray (Matt. xiv. 23).

We are told that once “great multitudes came together to hear
Him, and to be healed of their infirmities.” Then comes the remark, “But Jesus himself
constantly withdrew into the desert, and there prayed” (Luke v. 15, 16, Weymouth).
Why? Because He knew that prayer was then far more potent than “service.”

We say we are too busy to pray. But the busier our Lord was, the
more He prayed. Sometimes He had no leisure so much as to eat (Mark iii. 20); and
sometimes He had no leisure for needed rest and sleep (Mark vi. 31). Yet He always
took time to pray. If frequent prayer, and, at times, long hours of prayer, were
necessary for our Savior, are they less necessary for us?

I do not write to persuade people to agree with me: that is a
very small matter. We only want to know the truth. Spurgeon once said: “There is
no need for us to go beating about the bush, and not telling the Lord distinctly
what it is that we crave at His hands. Nor will it be seemly for us to make any
attempt to use fine language; but let us ask God in the simplest and most direct
manner for just the things we want. . . . I believe in business prayers. I mean
prayers in which you take to God one of the many promises which He has given us
in His Word, and expect it to be fulfilled as certainly as we look for the money
to be given us when we go to the bank to cash a check. We should not think of going
there, lolling over the counter chattering with the clerks on every conceivable
subject except the one thing for which we had gone to the bank, and then coming
away without the coin we needed; but we should lay before the clerk the promise
to pay the bearer a certain sum, tell him in what form we wished to take the amount,
count the cash after him, and then go on our way to attend to other business. That
is just an illustration of the method in which we should draw supplies from the
Bank of Heaven.” Splendid!

But—? By all means let us be definite in prayer; by all means
let us put eloquence aside—if we have any! By all means let us avoid needless
“chatter,” and come in faith, expecting to receive.

But would the bank clerk pass me the money over the counter so
readily if there stood by my side a powerful, evil-countenanced, well-armed ruffian
whom he recognized to be a desperate criminal waiting to snatch the money before
my weak hands could grasp it? Would he not wait till the ruffian had gone? This
is no fanciful picture. The Bible teaches us that, in some way or other, Satan can
hinder our prayers and delay the answer. Does not St. Peter urge certain things
upon Christians, that their “prayers be not hindered”? (I Peter iii. 7.) Our prayers
can be hindered. “Then cometh the evil one and snatcheth away that which hath been
sown in the heart” (Matt. xiii. 19, R.V.).

Scripture gives us one instance—probably only one out of many—where the evil one actually kept back—delayed—for three weeks
an answer
to prayer. We only mention this to show the need of repeated prayer, persistence
in prayer, and also to call attention to the extraordinary power which Satan possesses.
We refer to Daniel x. 12, 13: “Fear not, Daniel, for from the first day that thou
didst set thine heart to understand, and to humble thyself before God, thy words
were heard: and I am come for thy word’s sake. But the prince of the kingdom of
Persia withstood me one and twenty days. But lo, Michael, one of the chief princes,
came to help me.”

We must not overlook this Satanic opposition and hindrance to
our prayers. If we were to be content to ask God only once for some promised thing
or one we deemed necessary, these chapters would never have been written. Are we
never to ask again? For instance, I know that God willeth not the death of a sinner.
So I come boldly in prayer: “O God, save my friend.” Am I never to ask for his conversion
again? George Müller prayed daily—and oftener—for sixty years for the conversion
of a friend. But what light does the Bible throw upon “business-like” prayers? Our
Lord gave two parables to teach persistence and continuance in prayer. The man who
asked three loaves from his friend at midnight received as many as he needed “because
of his importunity”—or persistency (Weymouth), i.e., his “shamelessness,” as
the word literally means (Luke xi. 8). The widow who “troubled” the unjust judge
with her “continual coming” at last secured redress. Our Lord adds “And shall not
God avenge his elect which cry unto him day and night, and he is long-suffering over
them?” (Luke xviii. 7, R.V.)

How delighted our Lord was with the poor Syro-Phoenician woman
who would not take refusals or rebuffs for an answer! Because of her continual request
He said: “O woman, great is thy faith: be it unto thee even as thou wilt” (Matt.
xv. 28). Our dear Lord, in His agony in Gethsemane, found it necessary to repeat
even His prayer. “And he left them and went away and prayed a third time, saying
again the same words” (Matt. xxvi. 44). And we find St. Paul, the apostle of prayer,
asking God time after time to remove his thorn in the flesh. “Concerning this thing,”
says he, “I besought the Lord thrice that it might depart from me” (II Cor. xii.
8).

God cannot always grant our petitions immediately. Sometimes we
are not fitted to receive the gift. Sometimes He says “No” in order to give us something
far better. Think, too, of the days when St. Peter was in prison. If your boy was
unjustly imprisoned, expecting death at any moment, would you—could you—be
content to pray just once, a “business-like” prayer: “O God, deliver my boy from
the hands of these men”? Would you not be very much in prayer and very much in earnest?

This is how the Church prayed for St. Peter. “Long and fervent
prayer was offered to God by the Church on his behalf” (Acts xii. 5, Weymouth).
Bible students will have noticed that the A.V. rendering, “without ceasing,” reads
“earnestly” in the R.V. Dr. Torrey points out that neither translation gives the
full force of the Greek. The word means literally “stretched-out-ed-ly.” It represents
the soul on the stretch of earnest and intense desire. Intense prayer was made for
St. Peter. The very same word is used of our Lord in Gethsemane: “And being in an
agony he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat became as it were great drops of blood
falling down upon the ground” (Luke xxii. 44).

Ah! there was earnestness, even agony in prayer. Now, what about
our prayers? Are we called upon to agonize in prayer? Many of God’s dear saints
say “No!” They think such agonizing in us would reveal great want of faith. Yet
most of the experiences which befell our Lord are to be ours. We have been crucified
with Christ, and we are risen with Him. Shall there be, with us, no travailing for
souls?

Come back to human experience. Can we refrain from agonizing in
prayer over dearly beloved children who are living in sin? I question if any believer
can have the burden of souls upon him—a passion for souls—and not agonize
in prayer.

Can we help crying out, like John Knox, “O God, give me Scotland
or I die”? Here again the Bible helps us. Was there no travail of soul and agonizing
in prayer when Moses cried out to God, “O, this people have sinned a great sin,
and have made gods of gold. Yet now, if thou wilt forgive their sin—; and if not,
blot, me, I pray thee, out of thy book”? (Exod. xxxii. 32.)

Was there no agonizing in prayer when St. Paul said, “I could
wish”—(“pray,” R.V. marg.)—“that I myself were anathema from Christ for my
brethren’s sake”? (Rom. ix. 3.)

We may, at all events, be quite sure that our Lord, Who wept over
Jerusalem, and Who “offered up prayers and supplications with strong crying and
tears” (Heb. v. 7), will not be grieved if He sees us weeping over erring ones.
Nay, will it not rather gladden His heart to see us agonizing over the sin which
grieves Him? In fact, may not the paucity of conversions in so many a ministry be
due to lack of agonizing in prayer?

We are told that “As soon as Zion travailed she brought forth
her children” (Isa. lxvi. 8). Was St. Paul thinking of this passage when he wrote
to the Galatians, “My little children, of whom I am again in travail until Christ
be formed in you”? (Gal. iv. 19.) And will not this be true of spiritual children?
Oh, how cold our hearts often are! How little we grieve over the lost! And shall
we dare to criticise those who agonize over the perishing? God forbid! No; there
is such a thing as wrestling in prayer. Not because God is unwilling to answer,
but because of the opposition of the “world-rulers of this darkness” (Eph. vi. 12,
R.V.).

The very word used for “striving” in prayer means “a contest.”
The contest is not between God and ourselves. He is at one with us in our desires.
The contest is with the evil one, although he is a conquered foe (I John iii. 8).
He desires to thwart our prayers.

“We wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities,
against the world-rulers of this darkness, against the spiritual hosts of wickedness
in the heavenly places” (Eph. vi. 12). We, too, are in these “heavenly places in
Christ” (Eph. i. 3); and it is only in Christ that we can be victorious. Our wrestling
may be a wrestling of our thoughts from thinking Satan’s suggestions, and keeping
them fixed on Christ our Savior—that is, watching as well as praying (Eph. vi.
18); “watching unto prayer.”

We are comforted by the fact that “the Spirit helpeth our infirmities:
for we know not how to pray as we ought” (Rom. viii. 26) How does the Spirit “help”
us, teach us, if not by example as well as by precept? How does the Spirit “pray”?
“The Spirit Himself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered
(Rom. viii. 26). Does the Spirit “agonize” in prayer as the Son did in Gethsemane?

If the Spirit prays in us, shall we not share His “groanings”
in prayer? And if our agonizing in prayer weakens our body at the time, will angels
come to strengthen us, as they did our Lord? (Luke xxii. 43.) We may, perhaps, like
Nehemiah, weep, and mourn, and fast when we pray before God (Neh. i. 4). “But,”
one asks, “may not a godly sorrow for sin and a yearning desire for the salvation
of others induce in us an agonizing which is unnecessary, and dishonoring to God?”

May it not reveal a lack of faith in God’s promises? Perhaps it
may do so. But there is little doubt that St. Paul regarded prayer—at least sometimes—as a conflict (see Rom. xv. 30). In writing to the Colossian Christians he says:
“I would have you know how greatly I strive for you . . . and for as many as have
not seen my face in the flesh; that their hearts may be comforted” (Col. ii. 1,
2). Undoubtedly he refers to his prayers for them.

Again, he speaks of Epaphras as one who is “always striving for
you in his prayers, that ye may stand perfect, and fully assured in all the will
of God” (Col. iv. 12).

The word for “strive” is our word “agonize,” the very word used
of our Lord being “in an agony” when praying Himself (Luke xxii. 44).

The apostle says again, Epaphras “hath much labor for you,” that
is, in his prayers. St. Paul saw him praying there in prison, and witnessed his
intense striving as he engaged in a long, indefatigable effort on behalf of the
Colossians. How the Praetorian guard to whom St. Paul was chained must have wondered—yes, and have been deeply touched—to
see these men at their prayers. Their
agitation, their tears, their earnest supplications as they lifted up chained hands
in prayer must have been a revelation to him! What would they think of our prayers?

No doubt St. Paul was speaking of his own custom when he urged
the Ephesian Christians and others “to stand,” “with all prayer and supplication,
praying at all seasons in the Spirit, and watching thereunto in all perseverance
and supplication for all saints, and on my behalf . . . an ambassador in chains.”
(Eph. vi. 18-20). That is a picture of his own prayer-life, we may be sure.

So then prayer meets with obstacles, which must be prayed away.
That is what men mean when they talk about praying through. We must wrestle with
the machinations of Satan. It may be bodily weariness or pain, or the insistent
claims of other thoughts, or doubt, or the direct assaults of spiritual hosts of
wickedness. With us, as with St. Paul, prayer is something of a “conflict,” a “wrestle,”
at least sometimes, which compels us to “stir” ourselves up “to lay hold on God”
(Isa. lxiv. 7). Should we be wrong if we ventured to suggest that very few people
ever wrestle in prayer? Do we? But let us never doubt our Lord’s power and the riches
of His grace.

The author of The Christian’s Secret of a Happy Life told a little
circle of friends, just before her death, of an incident in her own life. Perhaps
I may be allowed to tell it abroad. A lady friend who occasionally paid her a visit
for two or three days was always a great trial, a veritable tax upon her temper
and her patience. Every such visit demanded much prayer-preparation. The time came
when this “critical Christian” planned a visit for a whole week! She felt that nothing
but a whole night of prayer could fortify her for this great testing. So, providing
herself with a little plate of biscuits, she retired in good time to her bedroom,
to spend the night on her knees before God, to beseech Him to give her grace to
keep sweet and loving during the impending visit. No sooner had she knelt beside
her bed than there flashed into her mind the words of Phil. iv. 19: “God shall supply
all your need according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus.” Her fears vanished.
She said, “When I realized that, I gave Him thanks and praised Him for His goodness.
Then I jumped into bed and slept the night through. My guest arrived the next day,
and I quite enjoyed her visit.”

No one can lay down hard and fast rules of prayer, even for himself.
God’s gracious Holy Spirit alone can direct us moment by moment. There, however,
we must leave the matter. God is our judge and our Guide. But let us remember that
prayer is a many-sided thing. As Bishop Moule says, “True prayer can be uttered
under innumerable circumstances.” Very often

Prayer is the burden of a sigh

The falling of a tear,

The upward glancing of an eye

When none but God is near.

It may be just letting your request be made known unto God (Phil.
iv. 6). We cannot think that prayer need always be a conflict and a wrestle. For
if it were, many of us would soon become physical wrecks, suffering from nervous
breakdown, and coming to an early grave.

And with many it is a physical impossibility to stay any length
of time in a posture of prayer. Dr. Moule says: “Prayer, genuine and victorious,
is continually offered without the least physical effort or disturbance. It is often
in the deepest stillness of soul and body that it wins its longest way. But there
is another side of the matter. Prayer is never meant to be indolently easy, however
simple and reliant it may be. It is meant to be an infinitely important transaction
between man and God. And therefore, very often . . . it has to be viewed as a work
involving labor, persistence, conflict, if it would be prayer indeed.”

No one can prescribe for another. Let each be persuaded in his
own mind how to pray, and the Holy Spirit will inspire us and guide us how long
to pray. And let us all be so full of the love of God our Savior that prayer, at
all times and in all places, may be a joy as well as a means of grace.